


Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the Miraculous Stones

by Math_and_Lunacy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Edna Mode - Freeform, F/M, France (Country), Harry Potter Next Generation, I Don't Even Know, Magical France, POV Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Math_and_Lunacy/pseuds/Math_and_Lunacy
Summary: Three years ago, the dark wizard Hawkmoth began terrorizing Paris, demanding the young masked superheroes known as Ladybug and Chat Noir turn over their Miraculous Stones. Meanwhile Marinette Dupain-Cheng prepares to begin her seventh and final year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the Miraculous Stones

Chapter 1: The Charms of Adrien Agreste

“Marinette? Hey, Marinette, you there?”

Marinette jumped up and _of course_ knocked over a jar of ink on the Charms homework she’d been trying to finish. “Crap,” she muttered, “One second Alya!” Marinette quickly pulled her wand free from the bun on top of her head and siphoned up the extra ink. Deciding the parchment didn’t look completely horrible afterward, she stepped over several piles of robes and books that she had yet to pack and found her mobile mirror hiding under her Potions book.

She picked it up and smiled brightly when she saw her best friend Alya Cesaire looking out at her from the glass. Behind Alya, Marinette could see a finely appointed dormitory with five beds, a marble fireplace, and an enormous paned window that looked out onto the French Pyrenees.

“You’re there already?” asked Marinette.

“Yeah, I got here this morning. But you’re not going to believe who just arrived with a private portkey.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Oh I don’t know, could it be the minister’s daughter?”

“Well yeah her,” said Alya, tone wry, “But Chloe _always_ comes that way, so not exactly what we’d classify as unbelievable.”

“Sabrina then?”

“Nope, but getting warmer. He _is_ a good friend of Chloe’s.”

“That’s the unbelievable part right there,” muttered Marinette.

“Do you give up?”

Marinette considered for a moment. There was really only one person it could be. But the likelihood of that happening was—.

“It’s Adrien Agreste,” said Alya, grinning.

Marinette froze. Clearly it was a higher likelihood than she’d thought. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as Mde Mendeleiv in First Year Potions. He’s here. His father is apparently allowing him to attend Beauxbatons for his final year of schooling. Isn’t that great?”

Marinette glanced at the many clippings she’d ill-advisedly attached to her bedroom wall the summer after Mlle Bustier had taught them that permanent sticking charm. The clippings came almost exclusively from Paris’ Witch Weekly, and they nearly all featured a smiling Adrien Agreste.

Marinette cringed as she reread them, _Teen Wizard Adrien Agreste Visits Crup Shelter_ (with a laughing Adrien holding a pair of fork-tailed puppies), _Adrien Agreste Models his Father’s New Line of Dragon-Free Hyde_ (Adrien posing dramatically, decked out in faux leather) _, Adrien Agreste Donates Clothing from His Father’s Line to Homeless House Elves_ (Adrien smiling happily, surrounded by tiny, fashionably dressed elves).

Marinette bit her lip. “Yeah, that’s great.”

“It is!” insisted Alya, “Maybe now you can finally get around to asking him out! I can help you. I’ll play wing-witch.”

“I… um… maybe?”

“No maybe girl, just go for it! It’ll be fun!”

The thing Alya didn’t realize was, for some reason, whenever Marinette was around that boy, all coherent thoughts promptly exited her mind, leaving her an ineloquent, stuttering mess. And Marinette was _not_ shy. The number of demerits she’d received over the years at Beauxbatons for excessive talking in class was… well…

Marinette shook her head. It had started three years ago, the summer before Marinette’s fourth year at Beauxbatons. It was a summer of enormous change in Marinette’s life, beginning the day she’d accepted a junior level internship with Gabriel Wizarding Fashions.

Marinette had always been interested in fashion, but that was the year she’d spent most of her time perfecting her embroidery charms to the point that nearly all of her uniform robes were breaking dress code (as Mde Mendeleiv was glad to point out). Which is to say, Marinette had been absolutely thrilled the first day of summer holiday, walking down Rue Girardon toward the pristine white building that was Gabriel Headquarters in France. She was excited and nervous, clutching the lunch her father had sent with her from her parents’ bakery.

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she’d told the smartly dressed reception witch, “I’m here for my internship.”

The witch had promptly sent her up to the top floor of the building, where she’d found another small reception area, and another girl her age already waiting there. The sense of pride and excitement Marinette had been harboring for the past few weeks nearly evaporated right then and there though.

“Dupain-Cheng?” said the girl, sounding horrified, “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Chloe,” retorted Marinette, “I’m here for my internship. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Ugh,” scoffed Chloe, “Do you even know who my mother is? She’s one of the wizarding world’s top fashion critics. I’m here for my internship as well.”

Marinette sighed and sank into the uncomfortable white sofa across from Chloe. They waited for a few minutes, ignoring each other as much as possible, until finally a professional looking witch came out to greet them.

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng, Mlle Bourgeois,” said the woman sternly, surveying them through a thin pair of rimless glasses, “I am Nathalie Sancoeur. It is my pleasure to welcome you to Gabriel Wizarding Fashions. Follow me.”

They followed to a lift, different from the one Marinette had taken up there, and filed inside. As soon as the doors closed, the lift shot hard right. And then it shot down, then up and to the left, and then back down again, each jolt of motion faster than the one before. Unfazed, Mlle Sancoeur stood with her back to them, arm clutching one of the security rings that was fastened to the elevator’s ceiling. Marinette struggled to grab onto one as well and Chloe just doubled over and held her stomach.

“M. Agreste has decided that you two will spend the summer shadowing one of his more infamous designers,” explained Mlle Sancoeur once the elevator had come to a stop. Her heels clacked on the white granite floor as she marched purposefully toward a thick metal door at the end of the hall.

“Really?” said Marinette, shocked and pleased at the news.

There was a long, rectangular looking-glass set up beside the door and several small pointed boots, which each leapt off the wall and began examining the three of them as soon as they were close. Mlle Sancoeur pulled a golden strip of rope that was attached to the ceiling and a loud gong sounded through the hall.

Chloe covered her ears and Marinette stared at the mirror, eager to see who they would be working with this summer. A moment later the glass began to shimmer and change, showing a large grey bricked room with hundreds of glass display cases. “What?” said a cranky voice, “What do you want?”

There was a sound of three steps being ascended and suddenly the looking glass was filled with a very small woman with short dark hair and bangs, large circular glasses, and a pinched, annoyed face. Marinette almost fainted right there. “Edna Mode?” she breathed, excitement coursing through her.

“Yes? What is it? I’m busy.”

“Edna,” said Mlle Sancoeur, voice even, “M. Agreste has decided that you’ll get to work with these two _promising_ young interns this summer.”

Before Marinette had a chance to preen at the implied compliment ( _Gabriel Agreste thought she was promising?!)_ , the huge metal door slid open with an alarming bang.

“What?” shouted Edna Mode, descending her stepstool and marching up to Mlle Sancoeur. “He thinks he can punish me with… with _interns?_ ”

She held a long black, unlit cigarette holder and she brandished it at Mlle Sancoeur like a wand. “I’ll not stand for this,” she declared, “I’ll take my talents elsewhere. You tell him! Maison Capenoir has approached me three times this week alone! I bet they wouldn’t dream of saddling me with,” she shuddered, “ _interns._ Tell Gabriel that.”

Marinette stepped back, shocked at the outburst. Beside her, Chloe crossed her arms and muttered, “Rude.”

Once again Mlle Sancoeur looked unmoved. “I’ll be sure to inform him,” she said, “In the meantime, Mlle Dupain-Cheng, Mlle Bourgeois, meet your new mentor. This is Edna Mode.”

Mlle Sancoeur did not stick around for any further protests from Edna. She turned and quickly marched away from them, back toward the lifts.

“H—hi?” said Marinette, uncertain.

Edna took a moment to accept her fate. She looked torn between slamming the door in their faces and giving them a piece of her mind. Finally she stepped aside so Chloe and Marinette could enter her work area ( _lair_ , Marinette decided pretty quickly).

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Edna, crossing her arms.

“Not really,” said Chloe.

Edna ignored that and led them over to a pod of metal desks. There were fabrics spread out over all of them, and three display cases surrounded them—filled with the familiar costumes from one of the first wizarding movies that had ever been made, _The Adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart_.

“I’m working,” said Edna, glowering at them through her thick rimmed glasses, “On Gabriel’s newest combat line.”

She paused and marched over to a nearby display case, examining the stitching on one of the robe’s arms. “It’s going to be revolutionary,” she said shortly.

“Combat line?” said Marinette.

“Robes appropriate for wizard duels and general fights for your life,” she said with relish.

Marinette blinked, “Woah.”

“I’ll be unveiling the line at a Junior Dueling Tournament in three weeks. So as you can imagine, I am _very_ busy right now.” She turned to face them again, examining first Chloe and then Marinette with the same critical eye she’d turned on the Lockhart robe, “As for you two,” she said, “Just… sit there and sort fabrics until I can figure out what to do with you, got it?”

She didn’t wait for them to answer. She left them there and vanished off to some unknown area of the lair.

“This is boring,” said Chloe several hours later.

Marinette had been dutifully putting fabric swatches into some semblance of order, by color and design, but Chloe had just been sitting there, filing her nails and sending pictograms with her mobile mirror.

“What have you done?” screeched Edna Mode suddenly, storming toward them and staring at the neat piles that Marinette had spent the past few hours making. “What,” she demanded, taking a puff of her unlit cigarette holder, “Have you _done_?”

Marinette glanced behind her, concluded that yes, Edna had been speaking to her that way and took a breath, “I was just sorting your fabrics,” she said defensively, “Like you said to do.”

“This is _not_ how I wanted them sorted!” screamed Edna, “Now how will I find anything? You’re a menace! Gabriel sent you here to ruin me, didn’t he?”

Chloe snickered and Marinette fumed. “He didn’t!” insisted Marinette, “I’m here to learn about fashion. I want to be a designer! I want to help.”

Edna crossed her arms and took another drag on her (still unlit) cigarette holder. “Fine,” she said, calming down significantly, “Fine. You want to help? Why don’t you two go out and get me some coffee? And not any of that… that swill they serve in the staff room here. No, I want a double espresso with mooncalf milk and butterscotch syrup. Extra warming charms.” She handed Marinette several frank galleons, “Go to that little café on the corner, _Brew and Stew_.”

Marinette and Chloe left. It was a short walk to the café where Marinette handled the ordering and Chloe handled the complaining. “This day had been _so_ boring _,”_ she said, “This internship is the worst.”

“ _You’re_ the worst,” said Marinette, whose patience for Chloe Bourgeois had run out about two and a half years ago. “What exactly did you think we’d be doing anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Chloe with a huff. She took a big sip of the coffee she’d ordered for herself and made a face, “Mooncalf milk is disgusting,” she concluded. She tossed the whole coffee into the nearest trash bin and continued, “I guess I thought we’d be looking at clothes all day and telling people everything that’s wrong with them. Like my mom does. Oh hey!” she exclaimed suddenly, “It’s Adrien!”

She ran back toward the Gabriel building and collided headlong with a boy about their age. There was a large, threatening wizard beside the boy who looked as though he might intervene, but quickly backed off upon realizing that the assailant was a skinny fourteen-year-old girl.

“Adrien!” she said excitedly, “It’s been ages! Why haven’t you answered any of my owls?”

The boy, Adrien, to Marinette’s strong disbelief, smiled happily at Chloe. “Hey Chloe,” he said, “How was your semester at Beauxbatons?”

“It was horribly boring,” she said at once, “Everyone there is stupid.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at her classmate.

“I’ll tell you all about it. Have you had lunch yet?”

“Um no, I was about to though.”

“Great! Marinette, why don’t you take this coffee back to that nasty Mode woman,” said Chloe, “Adrien and I are going to go for lunch.”

Marinette weighed her options. On principle, she hated letting Chloe get away with things like this. But on the other hand, she hated spending time with the spoiled brat. “Fine,” she said.

She took the coffee and somehow managed to find her way back to Edna’s lair. Once inside, she found Edna pouring over the fabric swatches she’d sorted earlier. “You, girl,” said Edna, setting her coffee down without a hint of thanks, “Where did you put the thunderbird fabric? The one with the feathers?”

Marinette sighed and picked up a pile of bird-themed fabric swatches from just beside Edna’s right hand. “You mean this one?”

Edna squinted at her a moment, then snatched the fabric and walked away.

The day continued on like this. There was no sign of Chloe and Marinette didn’t have anything to do to pass the time. Eventually her stomach rumbled and Marinette decided she would track down the lazy brat after all.

“I’m going to lunch!” Marinette called over her shoulder into the cavernous lair.

“Fine!” yelled Edna, from somewhere in the back.

Marinette paused for a moment, considering. Then, half exasperated with herself, because she was horribly _annoyed_ with Edna Mode and her dismissiveness, she asked, “Do you want anything?”

“Club sandwich with smoked salmon, from Le Mangeur,” snapped Edna without hesitation.

Marinette sighed.

“Just tell them to put it on my tab,” called Edna, “You can get yourself something too if you want.”

Marinette shook her head and left. There weren’t too many restaurants in Montmartre, the French wizarding district, and Marinette was able to track down Le Mangeur and place Edna’s order without too much difficulty. The elf behind the counter gave Marinette a nasty look when she requested extra warming charms, but Marinette took it in stride.

A few minutes later she found Chloe and her friend Adrien seated on the outdoor patio at the Brew and Stew, laughing and apparently having a good time. Marinette marched over to them, “Chloe,” she said, “Don’t you think it’s time you came back to Edna’s?”

“Um no?” said Chloe.

Adrien chuckled, and Marinette fixed him with a highly unimpressed look.

“Actually, I’d better be going,” he said, standing and nodding to his bodyguard (who’d stationed himself threateningly at the table beside theirs). “I have dueling lessons with M. D’Argencourt. I don’t want to be late.”

He nodded at Chloe, who looked put out, and then at Marinette. “You can have my seat if you want, um, what was your name again?”

“It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” said Chloe without hesitation, “This is the super annoying girl I was telling you about.”

Adrien’s face cleared for a moment, and then morphed into a sort of smirk which Marinette didn’t understand nor appreciate. “Here, have my seat,” he insisted, “I should really get going.”

He moved out of the way and Marinette hesitated for a moment before doing as he suggested. After all, she had planned to eat lunch somewhere—preferably not in Edna Mode’s windowless (likely underground) lair.

“Actually, I think Dupain-Cheng is right after all,” said Chloe, “I should go back to Gabriel’s as well.” She got up almost as soon as Marinette sat down.

At first, Marinette was unperturbed, watching the two blonde brats walking back toward Gabriel’s together. But then, there was something about their laughter that made Marinette suddenly very nervous. Unable to puzzle it out, she ate the lunch her father had packed her in relative peace. She sent a pictogram to Alya’s mobile, along with the message _“First day at Gabriel’s, going great!”_

And it was only when she tried to stand up that she realized something was wrong.

“Oomph,” she muttered, feeling her behind stuck to her chair. She snapped back into her seat. Blinking and looking around in confusion, she tried once more.

And then she came to a few unfortunate conclusions. Her robes were stuck to her seat. Someone had _stuck_ her robes to her seat. And that someone was more than likely the person who’d offered her the seat in the first place.

Marinette grabbed her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at her seat. “ _Finite”_ , she muttered.

She tried to get up. _Crap_ , still stuck. 

“ _Finite,”_ she tried again.

” _Finite, finite, FINITE INCANTATUM!”_ she shouted. The musical enchantment on the restaurant and a few other nearby charms ceased functioning, but unfortunately, Marinette’s derriere remained firmly stuck to the seat. The other café patrons were all looking at her now. “Oh come on,” she said, “ _Finite_ ,” she tried again, whispering. A line of dishes that had been floating to the back of the café clattered to the ground.

Finally, one of the wizards behind the counter at Brew and Stew came forward, “Excuse me Mademoiselle, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m trying!” she argued.

“Well try harder,” he argued back.

“You know what, fine!” Marinette cast a feather light charm on the café’s chair and then made her clumsy way out of the restaurant with the seat still stuck to her. She ignored the serving wizard’s cry of protest as she exited the restaurant, chair still firmly attached. She felt somewhat bad for stealing the chair, and definitely worried that they’d never let her back. But the wizard wasn’t exactly giving her a choice.

Chloe burst out laughing when Marinette finally made it back to Edna’s lair.

“What are you doing?” screeched Edna Mode when Marinette handed the witch her requested lunch.

“I can’t get it off,” said Marinette through gritted teeth, “I must’ve cast _finite_ a thousand times.”

Chloe snorted in glee and Marinette gave her the nastiest look she could muster.

Edna Mode held up her cigarette holder and a moment before she waved it, Marinette realized the thing had actually been a wand all along. “ _Evanesco_ ,” she said dispassionately. She waved her wand at the chair attached to Marinette and a moment later, the entire thing had vanished.

“There,” said Edna, “Now if you could both stop distracting me, I have a lot of work to do.”

She stomped away, tiny high-heeled boots rapping on the stone floor. “If you want something to do, you can sort out that pile of sketches on the desk.” She motioned to a huge and disorderly collection of parchment rolls, half of which were torn or stained. “And if that’s not stimulating enough for you, you can take it up with Gabriel and that assistant of his.”

Marinette sighed.

Chloe made a noise of disgust.

By the end of the day, Marinette had only made it through a quarter of the parchment rolls, and her sorting scheme was hopelessly convoluted. _Weird wizarding formal wear_ over here, _business attire_ over there, _skin-tight leather jumpsuits?_ Marinette was at a loss.

Chloe looked up from her mobile around five o’clock and said, “It’s time to go.”

Marinette was holding a sketch of a long sleeved, button covered dress and was trying to decide if it was designed for witches or wizards, or maybe both? Or neither? Giving up, she tossed the sketch back into the pile and shook her head.

“Today has been the absolute worst,” said Chloe, shoving her mobile back into her bag. She stood up and stretched.

When Marinette didn’t answer, she pressed, “Come on, even you, Dupain-Cheng, couldn’t have expected to spend your summer holiday like _this_.”

Marinette spared her a scathing look as she collected her own belongings, “Well I can’t say I expected to get a chair stuck to me,” she said. She was still furious with Chloe and Chloe’s foul friend Adrien.

Chloe burst out laughing again, “That was actually the best part,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, “You looked so ridiculous waddling around with it stuck to you. Utterly ridiculous.”

Marinette grit her teeth.

The rest of the week with Edna Mode went much the same—sorting piles of parchment or fabric, or sewing tools and knotted up spools of thread—the occasional break to fetch Edna a coffee or an overpriced lunch at Le Mangeur. Chloe gave up on day three and didn’t come back. Marinette might have done the same if she didn’t despise Chloe so much—once she’d disappeared, Marinette found herself stubbornly continuing to show up, just so she could see how far she could outlast the spoiled brat.

A week and a half into what Marinette had internally declared _The Worst Summer Internship of All Time_ , Edna wheeled out a dummy, dressed in dark green dragon-hyde beneath a black robe.

“Well?” she said, looking at Marinette expectantly.

Marinette looked up from her latest round of useless sorting. “Um, well what?” she said.

“Well what do you think?” said Edna.

In the ten days Marinette had known Edna Mode, she’d never once been asked such a question. “What do I think?” she repeated dumbly.

“Yes, what do you think, girl!” snapped Edna.

“Um, it’s nice?”

“Nice?” said Edna, “Ha! Come here. Come see what this can do.”

Marinette followed Edna over to the far side of the lair. She sat on the tall white stool that Edna indicated and watched as the designer pressed her rolling dummy onto some sort of conveyor belt behind a thick shield of glass.

She came back and sat beside Marinette and held up her wand. With a wave the dummy began slowly rolling forward.

“This set is designed for Gabriel’s junior duelists. The Junior Dueling circuit has strict rules on permissible spells. While transfigurations are generally too difficult to predict, I’ve equipped this set with counters to almost every charm a duelist might come across.”

 _“Stupefy!”_ she intoned, aiming for the dummy’s chest. With a slight glow, the black robe absorbed the shock.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” was met with similar effects. The fake wand in the dummy’s hand didn’t move.

From there it got more interesting, “ _Incendio_ ,” didn’t burn the material in the slightest, “ _Aguamenti_ ,” didn’t wet the material. It resisted ice and heat, and even absorbed a flash of lightning without showing any signs of wear.

“Isn’t this cheating?” said Marinette, “Isn’t the whole point of dueling competitions to test the competitors abilities to counter these spells?”

Edna glared at her.

With a wave of her wand, she summoned another set of robes that looked identical to the first. Edna cast an _Incendio_ at the new set and it instantly caught fire. “Well, that’s why I made this set,” she said grumpily, “The only thing I can say about this one is that it looks nice, and it’s flexible.”

She crossed her arms with a _harrumph_ and took another drag on her cigarette holder.

Marinette was quiet for a moment, considering. “What about…” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Yes?”

“What about _summoning?_ Does the suit you made protect against that?”

Edna blinked and then her eyes lit up. Muttering to herself, she walked over to the suit that was behind the glass and began poking it with her wand. A moment later she looked back, “Oh, girl, bring that sample up to Materials on the third floor. They should have the measurements they need already for the tournament.”

Marinette shrugged and did as she was told. From that moment on though, Edna deigned to involve her in a lot more of her design decisions. It was mostly silly things like, “Blue or red stitching on the hem?” and “What do you think about paisley for the undercoat?” And “How big is too big for a cowl?” But Marinette began to feel much more useful and interested.

It was with that frame of mind that Marinette agreed to accompany Edna to the Junior Dueling Tournament over the weekend, even though it should have been her day off.

Yawning, Marinette managed to arrive before sunup on Saturday, clutching a bag of pastries from her father and trying to decide how much she regretted her decision to get out of bed. Edna Mode immediately stalked over to her and handed her a bag of thread and sewing needles. “In case of last minute alternations,” she explained, then after a moment’s thought she said, “You _can_ sew, right?”

“Yes Edna,” said Marinette, rolling her eyes.

“I saw that.”

Marinette shook her head in tired exasperation and wandered away to begin locating the duelists who would be wearing Gabriel for the tournament. She checked two of them, a pair from England, about her age. Their uniforms looked to fit perfectly, and she indicated as much so that one of the Gabriel photographers could move in and capture their shots before the tournament began.

On the other side of the large gymnasium, Marinette saw Edna fidgeting with the uniform that Chloe’s friend Adrien was wearing. Marinette smirked at his obvious discomfort.

“Please find your seats!” exclaimed a voice over the loudspeaker at nine o’clock sharp. “The Round of 32 will begin with four duels at a time, one on each of the four platforms. Winners of each bout will be recorded on the North Wall.”

Marinette’s English skills weren’t great. She’d learned back in her non-magique primary school, long before she ever left for Beauxbatons, and she’d since forgotten most of it. Nevertheless, she smiled at the two British duelists in front of her and, with an undoubtedly heavy accent, said, “I am here,” she motioned to a spot on the nearby bank of bleachers, “If problem with robes, tell me and I feeks—er _fix_.”

“Uh merci,” said the darker haired boy.

Marinette grinned and wished them luck.

When she turned, Marinette was surprised to see her History of Magic professor seated in the bleachers. “Master Fu, what are you doing here?”

Master Fu, as always, was dressed in a red button down Hawaiian shirt and muggle trousers. He smiled fondly when he saw her. “Ah Marinette Dupain-Cheng, what a lovely surprise,” he said, “Do you often attend dueling tournaments?”

Marinette shook her head. “This is my first one. How about you? I didn’t know you liked dueling.”

“Very much so,” he said, “It may surprise you to learn that I was a dueling champion myself many years ago.”

Marinette had to admit, looking at the tiny old man, she was very surprised by that indeed. “It must have been many _many_ years ago,” she said, and then realizing she’d said that out loud, she slapped a hand over her mouth, “Um! Not that… not that you’re old… exactly. Uh, sorry.”

He chuckled. “You’re not wrong. It was nearly a century ago.”

Marinette gaped.

She looked up in time to see the blonde haired British boy send his opponent flailing off the platform in a shock of red light. The boy grinned and bowed, gave a high five to his friend and then hopped off the platform to go talk to a tall blonde haired man who looked just like him—clearly the boy’s father.

“That was quick,” said Marinette, “Are the bouts always that short?”

“Not usually,” said Master Fu, “The Malfoy boy is very good. He was originally predicted to win the whole tournament, but there were some last minute changes in seed when his friend Mister Potter signed up.”

“Potter?” mused Marinette, “That name sounds familiar.”

Master Fu chuckled again, “I am glad,” he said, “As your History of Magic professor, I feel it is my duty to make sure you know that the boy’s father, _Harry Potter_ ,” he paused significantly, “Is the one that defeated the dark wizard that overthrew the British magical government about… oh… say twenty or so years ago.”

“Oh right,” said Marinette, blushing slightly, “Voldemort.”

“Yes him.”

As the day wore on, Marinette began to realize that the duelists Master Fu was most interested in observing more often than not coincided with the ones that Gabriel had sponsored. She ended up spending most of her day on the bleachers beside him, listening to him explain the technicalities of the tournament. “Oh, an excellent fire charm,” he said, watching a girl wave her wand around in a wide arc. “Ah I see, a full elemental attack. You’ll notice Mlle Tsurugi switched stances, the lightweight steps she takes now clearly indicate she’s about to cast a wind—.”

“VENTUS!” the girl shouted. The boy dueling her, a small kid with curly red hair, tried to conjure a shield, but the metal blew away in the gust of wind shooting out of his opponent’s wand. His wand blew away next and he immediately yielded.

“Losing a wand does not mean the battle is over,” said Master Fu, shaking his head.

Marinette pondered that for a moment, “Wandless magic?” she asked, “Is that even legal?”

He looked at her, surprised, but then grinned toothily, “I simply meant he could have resorted to some good old-fashioned muggle karate, but you’re right. There is no rule against wandless magic, just so long as it originates from the caster and not a charmed artefact.”

When the bout was finished, Marinette hurried forward to check the girl’s uniform. She waved her wand to dispel a color changing charm, but the girl grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

Marinette motioned helplessly to the cameras nearby, waiting to capture pictures. “The Gabriel uniforms are all meant to be green,” she explained.

“I like the red, I changed it myself.”

Marinette bit her lip, deciding. Before Marinette had a chance to answer though, Edna Mode came rapidly walking across the gymnasium floor toward them. “What have you done to my design, girl?” she said, stepping forward and poking her cigarette holder at the duelist’s red vest. “This hyde is from a Welsh green, how did you even manage to make the color change hold?”

“Perseverance,” said the girl.

Edna scowled.

Without waiting for Edna to answer, the girl stowed her wand in a leather band on her arm and hopped off the platform.

“What was wrong with the green?” demanded Edna, though she was distracted now. Her critical eye was trained on the girl’s armband.

“The Sho Kunai Dragon is my family crest,” she replied, “It suits me better.”

“Oh, so you’re the fashion expert now,” said Edna, “Is that it? Hm?” She began thrusting her tape measure and bag of thread toward the girl. “You’ll need this then, won’t you? Eh Mademoiselle Expert?”

The girl crossed her arms and refused to take it. “I may not be a fashion expert, but I _am_ an expert on myself,” she said without hesitation, “And on my family. The Sho Kunai is a much better fit.”

“Come along Kagami,” called an imposing witch in a long red skirt. She wore dark muggle sunglasses and she didn’t look at Kagami when she spoke. “Let us prepare for your next duel. If this seamstress is harassing you, I’ll speak to Gabriel.”

“Yes Mother,” said Kagami.

“Hmph,” said Edna. She placed her cigarette holder in her mouth and looked at Marinette. “Blindness,” she said, in a tone that suggested she was about to impart some great wisdom, “Is no excuse for poor fashion.” Then muttering to herself something that sounded distinctly like, “What more can Gabriel do to me anyway? He’s already stuck me with an intern!” Edna turned abruptly and marched over to the next platform where another bout had just finished.

“The Sho Kunai Dragon is a rare breed. Small but dangerous, native to Japan. They are usually red,” explained Master Fu to Marinette as they watched Kagami and her mother march purposefully away from them and the photographers (who had yet to capture satisfactory shots).

Master Fu began humming to himself quietly and then mused, “Ladybugs are red too. Do you think Mlle Tsurugi has an affinity for those as well?”

Marinette glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She liked Master Fu, she really did. He made History of Magic fun, always telling outlandish stories, and sometimes getting the class to act them out. But he was decidedly odd. Marinette supposed it came with age. “I couldn’t say. You want a cookie Master Fu? My Papa made them this morning.”

Master Fu leaned forward and examined the decorative paper box that Marinette had pulled from her bag. “Ah how delightful. Thank you, Marinette.”

The next day, the duels didn’t start up again until 11 a.m. Three fourths of the competitors had been eliminated by the end of Day 1, and of the remaining eight duelists, six of them were modeling Gabriel combat robes. When she arrived, Marinette found Edna Mode arguing with Kagami again about her red vests, so she went over to the other side of the gymnasium to inspect the uniforms of the two British boys, as she’d done the day before.

The dark-haired boy had managed to rip a seam on his, so Marinette set about fixing it. “Did you not use zee buttons?” said Marinette, casting a quick sewing charm.

“Uh buttons?” said the boy.

Marinette worried she wasn’t being clear and so summoned a button from her bag to show him. “Zee buttons,” she said, “On zee back?”

The dark-haired boy still looked baffled, and so Marinette motioned toward his back with the button in her hand. She tried to make a buttoning-up gesture, but suspected she was just confusing him all the more. His friend glanced over at Marinette’s broad arm movements and immediately burst into laughter. “Merlin’s bollocks, Albus,” he said, chuckling, “You did realize there were buttons on the back, didn’t you?”

“Language Scorpius,” said the boy’s father, sounding bored. He was seated nearby reading a British newspaper.

“How was I supposed to know there were buttons,” said Albus defensively, “They’re on the back!”

“Did you get dressed in the dark?” asked Scorpius, still smirking, “Here look.” He shrugged off his outer robe and turned to show Albus the line of small dark buttons that stretched along the back of the dueling vest.

“And how are you meant to do those up?” said Albus, still sounding doubtful.

“Eez easy,” said Marinette, “There is a… uh… _enchantment_?” (Sadly they hadn’t covered the English word for _charm_ in Marinette’s muggle primary school) “I teach it to you!”

“Hold your wand here,” she said, holding up her own wand and resting the tip at the very top of her back, “Make slight flick with wand, and say _Amplocto_!”

They both copied, and Marinette corrected their pronunciations. “Oh, too big flick,” she said to Albus, “Will clasp too many things together, maybe make whole body hook together.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Useful in duel, maybe.”

“Uh, what?” said Scorpius.

Marinette grinned. “I show you.”

She held her wand up, aiming it very clearly at Scorpius, and as if by instinct, the boy raised his own wand as well. “Don’t worry,” she said, “Won’t hurt.”

M. Malfoy looked up just as Scorpius was lowering his wand. “Boys, perhaps we oughtn’t—.”

“ _Amplocto!”_ said Marinette, with a very sharp flick.

“—Cast unknown spells on ourselves ten minutes before the tournament starts up again,” finished M. Malfoy. With a flash of yellow light, the spell hit Scorpius. The result was near instantaneous. His limbs were forced together until he was giving himself a very awkward looking hug.

M. Malfoy sighed and looked down at his newspaper again.

Albus roared with laughter. “Brilliant!” he said.

“Eez easy to break,” she told Scorpius, who indeed forced himself out of the uncomfortable position a moment later. “But can also say _Desamplocto_. This works for undo buttons too.”

 _“Desamplocto_ ,” they both repeated.

Marinette nodded and grinned.

The Round of Eight began, and Marinette found a seat in the bleachers next to M. Malfoy. Scorpius’ bout was first, and it went on for a while. He was dueling a boy who looked to be about sixteen, and his spells were all very powerful and near perfectly aimed. Scorpius had a wide array of spells though, and he cast them in quick succession, not letting the other boy remain in one place for more than a second.

At one point he cast a spell Marinette had never heard before, _“Serpensortia!”_ and a giant cobra flew out of the end of his wand, slithering purposefully toward his opponent.

“Wicked!” said Albus fervently from the sideline, and M. Malfoy’s eyes remained trained on him for several long seconds afterward. So long, in fact, he missed when his son finished the duel with a series of light jinxes meant to distract, followed by a powerful, _“Expelliarmus!”_

“Well done,” said M. Malfoy, when Scorpius hopped off the platform. “Well done, indeed.”

“Thanks!” said Scorpius jauntily. Marinette moved in to repair the damage from a fire charm that had singed one of the sleeves of his robes.

“Expelliarmus, really?” said Albus laughing, and clapping his friend on the back, “That’s so boring!”

“It is not,” said Scorpius, in a tone that suggested this was an argument they’d had before, “Just because you’ve been casting it since you were in nappies, doesn’t make it boring.”

Albus affected a deep tone, a clear imitation of someone, “Expelliarmus is the most important spell in a wizard’s arsenal,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, “Guess who said that, will you.”

Scorpius chuckled and shook his head. “The man’s got a point though, doesn’t he? He did use it to defeat Voldemort.”

“Oh, did he now?” said Albus, “Wow, I didn’t know!”

“You know,” drawled M. Malfoy, approaching them sedately, “They say sarcasm is the very lowest form of wit. Now let’s hurry over to your platform before you miss your duel, Albus. Miss Dupain-Cheng, have you finished with your adjustments?”

“Oh, yes,” said Marinette, “But I will go with you.”

Now that Marinette was beginning to get the hang of what the duels entailed, she was better able to appreciate that Albus Potter’s dueling technique was very different from the others she’d watched over the past day and a half. It was rather… _unrefined_ she decided. His steps were not measured, and he did not take the time to set up his wand motions. But Albus was fast.

He could dodge almost anything thrown at him—even where others might have deflected the spell or cast a shield. And his reflexes were almost inhuman.

“Like a cat,” said Master Fu from beside Marinette in the bleachers. He was watching Albus’ duel very intently, a focused light in his eyes. “Perhaps the black cat suits him.”

“He’s quick as a cat,” replied M. Malfoy in perfect French, “But he definitely lacks the grace. He takes after his father in that regard.”

As he spoke, Albus stumbled (over apparently nothing) and rolled over to the side of the platform. He continued casting spells from the ground, and one drippy looking green spell hit his opponent square in the chest. Large green objects began clawing their way out of the girl’s nose. Once free, they took the form of bats, and they flocked around her head, attacking furiously.

The girl screamed and tossed her wand to the ground, “I yield!” she yelled in French, “Circe, make it stop!”

“Ah, he is very lucky,” commented Master Fu, watching as Albus crossed the platform and countered the strange hex he’d put on her, “That girl’s shields have been impenetrable.”

“He is that,” agreed Mr. Malfoy, “Another trait he inherited from his father actually.”

Master Fu looked thoughtful for a moment. Stroking his chin, he said, “What an unusual spell to cast there at the end. Very unusual indeed. It speaks of a certain creativity, does it not? Yes. Very creative.” With that declaration he began nodding, first hesitantly, and then with more vigor. “Yes, I believe that will make an excellent fit,” Marinette heard him say to himself as he slowly walked away from them.

“Master Fu is very old,” Marinette said by way of explanation, when M. Malfoy looked to her in bemusement.

With the Round of 8 finished, there was a break for lunch. “Won’t you join us Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said M. Malfoy, “We’re headed to a nearby café. It will be my treat.”

“Oh!” said Marinette, “Um, alright. As long as it’s not Brew and Stew.”

Albus collected his bag and joined them. “Why not?” he asked, “Bad food?”

Marinette flushed, “Non.” She glanced across the gym at Chloe’s friend Adrien. He was being lectured by a tall, slender wizard with dark brown hair and mustache and Marinette decided she did not feel sorry for him in the least. She’d learned he was none other than Adrien _Agreste_ , one and only son of her fashion idol and well, boss. It was a shame he had to be so horrible. “I have a lifetime ban,” she finally admitted.

“A what?” said Albus.

“I’m banned from going in there. Not one toe!” she motioned to her boot.

“Wicked!” said Albus, “What did you do?”

“Um, stole a chair,” she said, looking at her feet, “And cancelled most of the restaurant’s enchantments. Too much _finite_.”

The four of them wound up at Edna Mode’s favorite restaurant, _Le Mangeur_. There was a line to sit, but somehow M. Malfoy managed to convince the Maître D’ that they were in something of a hurry, and so they were given the next available table.

They spent most of the lunch discussing the differences between Beauxbatons and Hogwarts.

“And then we all meet at Kings Cross Station on September the first to take the Hogwarts Express,” explained Albus.

“The Hogwarts Express?” repeated Marinette.

“It’s a train,” said Scorpius.

“Like for the non-magique?”

“It’s way less interesting than it sounds,” said Scorpius.

“Oh I don’t know,” said M. Malfoy, “Albus’ father and I had several interesting encounters on that train.”

“Didn’t you break his nose?” said Scorpius.

M. Malfoy grinned nostalgically.

Marinette spotted Master Fu then, his red Hawaiian shirt distinctive. “Master Fu!” she called, waving him over, “Master Fu teaches History of Magic at Beauxbatons,” she explained, “He really likes dueling too.”

Master Fu walked over, smiling, and placed a hand on Albus’ shoulder. “I saw your last duel, young man. That was a very creative spell you cast at the end.” Marinette was impressed by his English.

“Thanks,” said Albus, “My mum taught it to me.”

“I imagine she is a fierce duelist as well.”

“Yeah,” said Albus, “She says it comes from growing up with six older brothers. She played Professional Quidditch for a while too. Apparently six older brothers helps with that too.”

“Ah yes, for the Holyhead Harpies, a wonderful team.”

“You like quidditch?” asked Marinette, who despite being fourteen years old had never been to a match in her life. She didn’t even know the rules.

“Not as much as ten pin bowling,” he said, “But you don’t reach my age without acquiring a few hobbies.” He winked. “Well, I’ll leave you all to your lunch,” he said, “I had some business to attend here in Paris, but now that it’s settled, I’ll be heading back to the school. Good luck with the rest of your duels! See you later Marinette.”

“Father, can we go to a Harpies game when we get back to England?” asked Scorpius as soon as Master Fu had left.

M. Malfoy considered for a moment. “I suppose. Since you’ve both made it to the final four in this dueling competition, I imagine a reward of some sort is in order.”

Scorpius knocked Albus’ shoulder in excitement and in the process caused Albus’ rucksack to slip off the side of his chair and spill out on the ground.

“Oh, let me help!” said Marinette, springing to her feet to help him pick up the mess. She handed him his wand, his mobile mirror, a couple of sweaty towels and a French dictionary. The last thing she picked up though was an ornate hexagonal wooden box.

“What’s this?” she asked, holding the box out to him.

“Um, I’m not sure,” he said, looking it over, “I’ve never seen that before.”

“Oh,” said Marinette, “Maybe it belongs to someone else?”

Albus shrugged. “It’s kind of pretty,” he said, “Why don’t you keep it?”

Marinette smiled, “Okay.”

***

Personally, Marinette decided the best duel in the round of four was the one between Scorpius and Kagami Tsurugi. They were both supremely disciplined duelists, and Marinette could now safely recognize good technique. It went on for quite a while, and when Kagami finally landed a stunning spell that knocked Scorpius off the platform, they were both sweating and breathing heavily.

They shook hands afterward and Scorpius, despite losing, couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “That was so wicked when you summoned that lightning,” he said.

“Your counter was well-executed as well,” replied Kagami. She wasn’t smiling, but she did agree to a photo afterward—something she’d steadfastly refused before that point. She also condescended to allow Edna Mode to adjust her uniform for the shot (without changing the color) while Marinette, once again, repaired the singed sleeves of Scorpius’ robe.

Later on, Marinette was disappointed when Kagami suffered a loss to Adrien Agreste. She seemed to still be tired from her duel with Scorpius, and she was hit with an _Expelliarmus_ that Marinette thought really should have missed.

The final bout was to be between Albus Potter and Adrein Agreste. The tournament organizers rearranged the gymnasium again so that there was only one long platform in the middle of the room. Finally, the two ascended the stage and bowed to one another.

It was a unique duel, that much could be said for it. Albus opened with a _Serpensortia_ which Adrien dismissed with a quick _Scourgify_. Only the _Scourgify_ went off track and ended up vanishing Albus’ right boot and half his trousers as well as the snake.

Albus laughed and took that as invitation to drench Adrien with a puddle of green bog water and a bunch of lily pads. Adrien looked as though he’d never seen anything like it before.

“I take it that’s not a regulation spell,” said Marinette to Scorpius, who was doubled over in laughter.

“It’s not technically breaking any rules,” said Scorpius, “But yeah, that’s not even a hex.”

Adrien shot back with a wind spell that knocked Albus off his feet, but keeping with his theme, Albus hit Adrien with a spell that made him croak like a toad. Adrien was unable to cast any spells without his voice, but he didn’t give in. He charged at Albus and they rolled around on the ground for a moment until Adrien came up holding both wands, and Albus dashed out of his way.

M. Malfoy laughed at that one. “I see Potter still has a few things to teach the boy after all.”

The look on Adrien’s face was full of determination, but Albus’ was thoughtful. Adrien had the wands, but Albus was the only one with a voice.

“A simple enough spell might still work from his wand,” said M. Malfoy just as Albus yelled “ _Amplocto!”_.

Adrien tried to point the wand away from him, but it caught the tip of his arm, landed for a second, and then forced Adrien’s wand arm to buckle in on the rest of him.

Albus didn’t waste any time. He charged forward and bodily knocked Adrien off the platform.

The gymnasium was quiet for a moment, digesting what it was they’d just witnessed. But when the referee declared Albus the winner, loud cheering exploded around them.

Marinette and Scorpius jumped up on the stage to congratulate Albus. “I cannot believe you used the buttoning charm!” said Marinette.

“That was the fastest final I’ve ever seen!” said Scorpius.

Albus was quickly surrounded with admirers, and Marinette moved out of the way so the Gabriel photographers could capture their shots. She glanced over at Adrien, who’d not moved from where he’d fallen. The cushioning charm around the platform was still in effect, and he seemed to just be resting there.

“Um are you alright?” said Marinette.

He jumped and quickly got to his feet. Marinette cringed when she saw the look on his face, the wetness in his eyes. “Oh, yeah,” he said, voice thick, “I just… yeah, that was a great duel, wasn’t it?”

Marinette thought on the whole it probably wasn’t. Neither of them had used particularly impressive spells and Adrien had been knocked off the platform in a very muggle fashion.

Fortunately, Adrien didn’t seem particularly interested in her answer. He nodded vaguely and walked away to return Albus’ wand to him. The boys shook hands and then broke apart as more photos were taken. Albus was surrounded by people until they left an hour later, but spared Marinette a wave goodbye on the way out.

Marinette, for her part, was busy being a diligent intern and organizing Edna’s pile of extra uniforms at the end of the day. When the designer found her, she held her cigarette holder up to her mouth and said simply, “Well?”

“Um?” said Marinette.

“What did you learn?” demanded Edna.

“What I—well, I suppose I learned that people should really fireproof their robes,” she said, thinking of Scorpius’ singed sleeves.

Edna nodded. “What else?”

“Um, maybe buttons should go on the front instead of the back?”

“Wrong. That’s what fastening charms are for. What else?”

Marinette thought for a moment, then decided, “Red is actually a really great color for combat robes. It’s… I don’t know, _fierce_.”

Edna’s eyes narrowed, but the side of her lip twitched a moment later and Marinette was certain she was about to smile. Edna turned on her heel and began swiftly walking away before she could allow that to happen. “Very well, you may go home for the night. I suppose I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at Gabriel’s?”

“Yeah,” said Marinette, “I’ll be there.”

“Hmph.”

Marinette gathered her things and headed for the front of the gymnasium. The building was located in a muggle part of the arrondissement near Marinette’s house, and as her family didn’t have a floo connection set up (they didn’t have a fireplace), Marinette had opted to walk.

She sighed when she stepped outside though and was met with a rumble of thunder and pouring rain. Her _impervious_ charm had never really worked out for her, and so she was bound to get soaked if she left then.

“Uh hey,” said a voice behind her.

Marinette was joined on the front steps by a nervously smiling Adrien Agreste. Marinette considered him for a moment, saw that he was looking at least somewhat less dejected than when she’d last laid eyes on him, and so didn’t feel too badly about crossing her arms and giving him a disapproving eyebrow raise in response.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said, “Chloe told me what she did to you at Brew and Stew, sticking that chair to you, and I just wanted you to know, I had no part in it. I didn’t know she was doing that, and I… I would have told her not to if I had known.”

“Chloe?” repeated Marinette, confused.

“Uh yeah. Wait, did you think _I_ cast that charm?”

Marinette cringed, “Well… yes. Yes I did.” The fact of the matter was, Marinette had never actually seen Chloe cast a charm before. She half suspected that the girl was a squib and her father had simply bribed the school board to get her a place at Beauxbatons.

“Oh,” he said, “Well I guess that explains why you don’t like me. But for the record, that was definitely Chloe, not me.”

“Why do you even hang out with her?” demanded Marinette, “She’s probably the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

“Hey, she’s not all bad,” said Adrien, “Especially once you get to know her. And well,” he paused, looking down, “I don’t exactly have any other friends either.” He took a moment to cast a unique looking umbrella charm over his head, and he used it to block them both from the rain.

“That was why I wanted to win this tournament so badly,” he continued, voice sounding pained, “My father said that if I won, he’d let me go to school next year—like _real_ school—not home school with tutors. And so, I trained really hard with M. D’Argencourt.” He sighed and smiled sadly. “I guess, sometimes these things just don’t work out. Maybe next year, right?”

Marinette blinked. She took a moment to look at him, really look at him. His blonde hair was glistening slightly from the rain and his luminous green eyes were trained steadfastly on her face. Marinette blinked again. He was so… she didn’t quite have a word for it. All she knew was that looking at him, this handsome, lonely and _kind_ boy standing there beside her, was… well, it was devastating.

She’d been wrong about him, hadn’t she?

“I can teach you this umbrella charm if you want,” he offered after a moment.

“O-oh,” said Marinette, “Um okay.”

He walked her through it, but Marinette was having the absolute hardest time concentrating. When he touched her fingers to correct her grip, she became suddenly aware of the hammering in her chest and the flurry in her stomach. “Um, here, why don’t you take mine,” he said, smiling. Without waiting for her response, he tilted his wand so that the magical umbrella moved from the tip of Adrien’s wand to hers.

“Uh th-thank you.” She didn’t know what was wrong with her voice.

“See you around Marinette.”

He left her standing there, still dumbfounded, and hurried out to the sleek black car that his bodyguard had just parked in front of them.

“Yeah, buh-buh, um? Ha! I mean… yeah. What is _wrong_ with me?”

And it had been like that ever since. Marinette spent three whole summers at Gabriel’s, and she ran into Adrien there regularly. He was always so nice, and warm, and handsome, and Marinette just did _not_ know what to make of it—except that maybe she was in love.

It was ridiculous too. Over the years she’d made him scarves and hats that she nearly always forgot to sign. She regularly baked him passionfruit macarons (his favorite) and then never managed to give them to him. And sometimes, when she was being exceptionally ridiculous, she daydreamed about their future together, M. and Mde Agreste with their three children and a kneazle… or maybe a crup… no, definitely a hamster. She loved hamsters.

“You’re thinking about the hamster again, aren’t you?” said Alya’s voice from Marinette’s mobile. Marinette glanced down at the mirror, which she’d been gripping a bit too hard between her fingers.

Marinette didn’t answer.

“Listen, if three little Agrestes and a pet hamster are what you want for your future Marinette, then I’m certainly not going to judge. But you _do_ have to talk to him first.”

“I know that,” insisted Marinette.

“Well as long as you know,” said Alya, grinning, “I’d better let you go. It looks like you’re not even packed yet. Isn’t your portkey leaving soon?”

“Nah it’s not leaving until—,” she glanced at the clock on her wall and then at the mess in her room. “Crap, you’re right!”

Alya chuckled, “Bye Marinette. I’ll see you soon!”

“See you!” Marinette tossed her mobile back on her bed and proceeded to dig out her moke skin travel bag. “Alright everyone, let’s see if we can do this in an orderly fashion this time, yeah?” She picked up her wand and waved it in a wide arc, “ _PACK!_ ”

A tornado or robes, books, and school supplies and several worrisome crashes later (including the shattering of what was surely her potions vials) Marinette’s things were, for better or worse, packed. She gave her room one last glance, touched the earrings that she never took off (just to double check) and then decided she was ready.

She was off to her seventh and final year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.


End file.
